A Twist of Fate
by Sweet Charity
Summary: First attempt at Gilmore Girls fanfiction... Not yet sure where it's going. Lorelei Gilmore is an innocent bystander, drinking coffee, eating bagels in New York City. One mistake of an ex-Chiltonite mis the other half of a twist of fate.
1. An Expensive Leather Suitcase

A/N + Disclaimer: Here's the thing- the WB owns all the characters, settings, etc. I only use them in a pathetic attempt to get some appreciation. First time as a Gilmore Girls fanfic writer, but I've always been a fan. Don't flame me badly, please. And do add constructive criticism! 

 The expensive leather suitcase flew onto the sidewalk with shouts following it out the third floor window of the classy-looking Victorian townhouse. Lorelei Gilmore the Third looked up from her copy of the New York Times. Shaking her head and taking another bite of her bagel sandwich and sip of her coffee, she looked back down.

  It was only for a second, though. She looked back up the instant she saw who had ducked. It was a tall blonde man with spiked hair, wearing an expensive, black, double-breasted coat that was unbuttoned over his equally, if not more expensive attire.

  He shook his head as he picked up the suitcase. His long legs helped him stride across the street, and Lorelei looked back down at her paper quickly.

  The blonde man sat down, sighing heavily and grumbling.

  "I suspect she had her maid pack it, otherwise, it would have been down before I was." He mumbled. Lorelei tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked up.

  "Bagel?" She offered, picking up the bag.

  The man laughed and looked at her for what seemed like the first time.

  "Maybe I misheard you. Did you offer me a bagel?" His face, she noted, had barely visible crinkles around his eyes, telling her he laughed a lot. He seemed surprised and amused.

  Lorelei nodded.

  "Thanks." He slowly crept his hand into the bag, grabbing a plain one.

  "Oh, you're no fun!" She exclaimed suddenly. "Most people get the odd ones, like cinnamon blueberry chocolate raisin crunch or something!" Then she smiled. "Coffee?"

  "You're certainly full of surprises." He replied.

  "Is that a yes or a no?" Lorelei asked, leaning forward slightly.

  Looking at the bits of snow on the sidewalk, and the rosy cheeks of the woman beside him, he sighed happily.

  "Why not?" She handed him the cup of her favorite, mocha chocolate chip. Normally she wouldn't share it with anyone, not even the woman who introduced it to her, her mom.

  Taking a sip and then handing it back, the man rubbed his hands together. "Tristan DuGray. And you would be?"

  "The brunette woman who sits in front of classy-looking Victorian townhouses, prying on bachelors that are kicked out by their model and/or actress girlfriends." Lorelei replied, hiding her shock with the infamous Gilmore sarcasm.

  "Is there a name that goes with that?" Tristan asked, remembering an old crush of his that had a similar wit about her.

   "Lorelei." She found herself shocked that she had opened her mouth at all- To this complete stranger—Wait, stranger, he wasn't. It was strange behavior for Tristan, but.. "Lorelei Gilmore the Third. As in Rory Gilmore."

  "You probably don't remember me, I was just this--.."

  "Are you kidding me? Ever since we last met, I haven't _stopped_ thinking about you." Rory stopped him ahead of time. "Has the thought of me ever--.."

  "Every morning and every night..." Tristan leaned back on the bench.

  "An interesting twist of fate, Tristan." Rory chirped. "Scone?"

  "Chocolate chip?" Tristan asked, raising his eyebrows.

  "Is there any other way to have them?" Rory asked, winking.

  "Definitely interesting twist of fate." Tristan replied, digging through the bottom of the bag.


	2. A Place To Stay

Disclaimer and A/N: Thank you for the positive response! Here you are.. Don't know where it's going, but it'll probably end up a Trory.

  "Do you suppose this is what it would have been like?" Tristin asked, taking a bite of his bagel.

  "What do you mean?" Rory browsed through the New York Times.

  "If we were friends." Tristin replied. "At Chilton."

  "Nah." Rory grunted. "If we were friends at Chilton, I'd probably be the one kicking you out of my townhouse as your ex-model and/or actress girlfriend."

  "What about friends in college?" Tristin asked, sipping Rory's coffee.

  "Completely intentional." Rory muttered, turning the page.

  "What was?" Tristin was confused and the space between his eyebrows and above his nose wrinkled. Rory giggled.

  "I avoided you every minute at NYU. Spotted your name on the dorm lists." Rory replied.

  "You did a pretty good job. I had no idea you were in New York. Always thought you'd go to Harvard." Tristin shrugged it off. "Paris told me you'd be at Harvard."

  "So you inquired about me?" Rory cockily raised her right eyebrow.

  "Nah, she was grunting about life doesn't change except for the surroundings. Your name came up." Tristin tossed her a half-icy, half-warm gaze. "Sorry to burst your ego-trip bubble."

  "It needed to be popped anyway. What are you doing in New York?" Rory looked at him sincerely.

  "Besides the obvious? Well, let's see. I'm in insurance.. Or I was. That's why Tiffany kicked me out. Said I couldn't support myself any more. But that's hardly the case. I just got a job as an international business man- I'll be handling stocks. I'll be moving around quite a bit. But I can't leave New York. It's turned itself into my home." Tristin shot her another one of his half-icy, half-warm gazes. "What about you?"

  "Writing for the New York Times, like I always wanted to do." Rory replied quietly, taking a sip of her coffee.

  "You travel a lot?" Tristin asked.

  "Only when I want to. I'm one of those slice-of-life writers. As long as I make the weekly deadline, my editor doesn't care. But he says if I'm off somewhere else, he pays for about a week, you know? Like it's a business trip or something." Rory replied.

  Silence. Minus the chomping of chocolate scones and bagel sandwiches, and the occasional slurp of Rory's coffee.

  "So, you got a place to stay?" Rory asked slyly.

  "Are you offering me what I think you're offering me?" Tristin turned to face her.

  Rory shrugged, hiding her delight in his positive response.

  "Where do you live?" Tristin seemed to snap back into reality. "Because if it's too far away from Manhattan--.."

  "Lovely view of the skyline." Rory told him. "I also work with the Today Show and Good Morning America."

  Tristin sat back and chuckled. Taking another sip of Rory's near-empty coffee, he turned back to her. "Never pictured you as much of a morning person, Rory."

  "No Mary? Where is that delightfully annoying Tristin Du Gray _I_ know?" Rory's sarcasm zipped through one ear and out the other.

  Apparently, it didn't phase him. "I got beat up a couple of times in military school for being too cocky. So I gave up on it."

  "I'm not a morning person. They just provide me with lots and lots of coffee." Rory replied.

  "Two bedroom?" 

  "Would I let you stay if it weren't? I didn't think the king of luxury could sleep on a couch." Rory zinged.

  "Well? What are we waiting for?" Tristin asked impatiently.

  "Just a sec. Five.. Four.. Three.. Two.. One." Three other suitcases flew out the window.

  "I'll hail a cab while you get your stuff." Rory said, getting up and snatching her coffee cup out of Tristin's hands.

  "Do take care of the bagel bag, will you?" Rory asked politely.

  Tristin Du Gray was stunned.


	3. Coffee Talk

The script on the invitation was somewhat loopy and looked like it had been painted with a brush.  
  
Tristin knew he shouldn't have been looking through her mail. But it was opened.  
  
He had noticed she had picked it up, ripped it open, rolled her eyes, and tossed it casually into a chic, frosted plastic trash can by the counter. He had picked it up out of the trash and then Rory's voice made him put it back.  
  
The place was pretty huge for a New York Times columnist's place. The island kitchen looked out onto a hip dining room/living room. While the kitchen was made of warm browns and off-whites, the living room was made out of shiny, dark metals and bright accents. There was an iron spiral staircase up to both of the bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study. Behind the staircase was a bathroom, a closet, and some other storage thing of some kind. The huge living room had long glass panels that each opened up to the large balcony.  
  
She had gone upstairs to make a few calls.  
  
"Make yourself at home, play with the stereo system or something!" She shouted down the stairs.  
  
Though she was pretty sure she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, Mom. It's the Evil One. Don't tell Grandma, or every single country club in the nation will know. Actually, he was at NYU with me. No, he didn't have the same reputation as he did in high school.. But Chilton was Chilton, like Stars Hollow. Except evil. NYU is different. But I knew a couple of his girlfriends- They're pretty down to earth."  
  
Tristin knew Rory's mom was one of her best friends, but honestly. At least she was protecting him- Any other ex-Chiltonite would have contacted Gold Diggers R' Us the second they could.  
  
But he supposed Rory wasn't just some ex-Chiltonite.  
  
Tristin thought about it. Rory wasn't as cynical as he was about the whole high society thing, but she was not exactly the girl that grew up in the spotlight reciting Latin and stock quotes to her parents' friends.  
  
Tristin chuckled softly, remembering what his grandfather had said before insisting Tristin accept the invitation to the girl's sixteenth birthday party.  
  
"Gilmore? Ah- Her grandparents, fine couple. Emily and Richard. Very nice conversationalists. But that daughter- And that boy that got her all knocked up. Both of them rebels. Couldn't take the way of life they had been given, let me tell you. That daughter almost never knew what a brush was until she came to Chilton, your father told me that. And that boy- Christopher. Hardly knew what he was doing. He could have done anything! But both of them- It would be interesting to see how their kid turned out!"  
  
Tristin remembered shaking his head before asking Marilyn, the family social secretary, to R.S.V.P.  
  
"Thinking back to the good old days?" Rory's voice interrupted his thoughts. She sat down in one of the low arm-chairs made of curling pewter metal and silken cushions.  
  
"Yeah, actually. Thinking about good old high society." Tristin had a short, bitter laugh following his statement. He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued.  
  
The sound of clinking pieces of metal and panting interrupted the laugh, as a black-and-white English spaniel pup hopped down the stairs in a comical fashion.  
  
"Hey, Rox! Glad to see you decided to grace us with your presence!" Rory said in a cooing, high-pitched voice. Tristin was oddly reminded of one of his stepmothers. The dog sniffed Tristin's shiny shoes for a moment, then a slow, goofy-looking sort of grin was plastered on the dog's face. Rory picked up the dog and waved one of it's paws at Tristin. "This is Roxanne, otherwise known as Roxy, or Rox, the queen of the house."  
  
"Always wanted a dog." Tristin said, looking skeptically at the pup, who jumped out of the chair and was running around Tristin's legs. He picked it up, letting Roxy lick his face. "My father would never let me, neither would my grandfather. They had hunting dogs galore, but never did they have a dog for companionship."  
  
"Oh, we could never have pets at our house, for fear they'd die. Luke and Max and Christopher all objected to it. I got Rox when I moved into this apartment. I was so lonely and this place was so huge with none of my stuff in it." Rory told him. "Sit down. You look so Chiltonish when you stand like that."  
  
He smiled, finding a chair next to Rory. It was a futon couch wiht a frame similar to the frame of Rory's chair.  
  
"Come on, Rox.. Leave him alone." Rory scolded softly. Roxy whimpered softly.  
  
"I don't mind, really. But I like big dogs. Like, uh.. Well, I like golden retrievers and dogs like that. My dog, the one Tiffany should be sending over sometime soon, is pretty big. Jack is one of those dogs--.." Tristin looked out the window wistfully. "It's like we've been friends for a long time."  
  
"It is." Rory replied, not meeting the intense gaze he gave her. "Coffee?"  
  
"Let me guess, you've got Starbucks installed right in your kitchen." Tristin said with a laugh. "I'd love some."  
  
"My grandfather got me this place. Promised me four years' supply of coffee if I promised to go to Hartford for Christmas and Easter for each of those years. I'm their latest accessory, you know? They love showing me off." Rory brought in a tray of two huge mugs of mocha coffee. "Not exactly Starbucks."  
  
Tristin took a sip. "But still good."  
  
Rory blushed a bit. "I'm surprised you didn't hear I was at NYU. Thought the Country Club Connection would alert all the Chiltonites were to find me to torture me."  
  
"Ah, they just needed somebody besides each other to attack." Tristin waved it off.  
  
"Thanks, but that doesn't make those three years any easier. Just like you." Rory clamped her hand over her mouth.  
  
"I was a duck." Tristin laughed. "Sorry."  
  
"A duck?" Rory hoped he knew what he was saying.  
  
"My cousin Greta's Seventeen magazine described it as- The loser that spits in your drink and knocks your books out of your arms across the hall like a third grader to show he likes you." Tristin admitted. "I had read all my uncle's back issues of GQ."  
  
Rory laughed lightly, her eyes emptying of happiness slowly. "Yeah, you were."  
  
"I'm sorry." Rory met his gaze.  
  
"You don't have to apologize." She looked away, not being able to look at him for too long.  
  
"Yeah, I do. And at least you have an explanation. I was a stupid, jerky kid." Tristin told her, putting his coffee on a Charlie's Angels coaster. He took her free hand in both of his own.  
  
"I'm really, really sorry."  
  
The doorbell rang, and Rory got up immediately and she looked flushed. Tristin sat back, shaking his head sadly.  
  
"Saved by the bell." He muttered, grabbing his coffee and sighing before he took a long sip. 


	4. A *Very* Fortunate Complication

  It was a delivery man. With boxes and a dog.

  "JACK!" The St. Bernard instantly ran to Tristan. And tackled him.

  Rory laughed and took the boxes. "Thanks. Um.."

  She shoved her hand in her pocket and grabbed a five dollar bill. "Thanks again."

  She flashed him a smile and closed the door with her foot. Tristan was still underneath his dog.

  Rory shook her head in a sort of way that she instantly scolded herself for. 'You aren't his mother, Rory. God...'

  "Do you need some help?"

  Rory almost dropped the boxes. Tristan DuGray, actually offering to do manual labor for somebody else? Well, in technicality, it was for himself.. But, still!

  Rory intentionally banged her head against a counter in the kitchen in order to stop babbling to herself.

  "So, what are you going to do about another apartment?" Rory found herself asking him over Chinese take-out.

  "Why would I want to leave?" He winked at her before fishing out a piece of chicken with his chopsticks skillfully. But he sighed and pushed the box away. "I'm calling my dad. It seems so stupid and so childish, but I need him. I need his money, really, to get on my feet with this new career."

  Rory nodded. "I think my mom might know how you feel. I couldn't get into Chilton on full scholarship, and my mom had to crawl back to her parents asking for money."

  "Chilton didn't let you in on full scholarship? They have to have been crazy." Tristan sort of looked away sadly. "You were so smart and you enjoyed learning so much. And those people with all the money in the world felt that they were imprisoned there by their parents and that they were forced to go there—I always viewed it as a privilege."

  Rory smiled over her pork. "Yeah. So did I."

  "It's Saturday morning and it's six o' clock. What am I doing awake?" Rory muttered. But then, she heard the clinking of dog tags, coffee and a frustrated Tristan.

  "What do you mean you won't wire me the money? I have never, ever, _ever_ asked you for anything since I was nine and you refuse?" He banged his fist on the desk. Rory knew she shouldn't have eavesdropped, but she flew downstairs to the kitchen and picked up the cordless phone.

  "Come on, Tris. Think about it. This is a stupid career move, and I'm surprised you found anyone that would believe that it wasn't anything less than career suicide!"

  The muffled voice was obviously Tristan's father. Rory covered the mouthpiece to ensure neither of them heard her breathing.

  "You know what, dad? Not everyone thinks like you, or mom or Tiffany. I'm making _good money_. Just not enough for a decent apartment in New York.  You know if granddad was still alive..."

  "Don't raise your voice to me, young man!"

  "I am not a child anymore!"

  "Then why are you asking for money, huh?"

  "From the time I was nine, I never even attempted to look at you and mom when I needed something. If I needed something, I got it on my own. Chilton, NYU, and even my first own place! But no. That's not good enough for you. I haven't been your son for sixteen years. The least you can do is treat me like your son now."

  "I'm sorry, Tris. I just can't."

  The instant Rory heard the click of the telephone, she hung up and busied herself in the kitchen. She found two cup of her favorite coffee from Starbucks sitting next to this morning's New York Times, a variety of bagels, and some chocolate chip scones. All served on platters as if they were awaiting a princess.

  "You're a god." She said the moment he walked down the stairs. 'He even _looks_ like he needed the self-esteem boost. Tristan DuGray NEEDS a self-esteem boost. He's only wearing a white wife-beater and boxers, and his hair's tousled.. And.. He may be looking perfectly gorgeous, but honestly! The guy needs a compliment.' _Why, Rory, are you overcompensating your insecurity about the hottie?_ 'Why is my subconscious my mom, and why did I let her read Freud?' _This is what you get for not having your coffee._ 'Yep. The subconscious is definitely my mom.'

  "What?" He didn't realize she was up. But he could see through the gaps between the cupboards and the counters that she was bent over a copy of the New York Times, with a Starbucks cup in one hand and a chocolate chip scone in the other. "Oh. You found my presents."

  She smiled at him. "Join me. My mother will _definitely_ like you. That is, if you're still around when she comes to visit."

  'Good, Rory. Trap him in five, four, three, two..' 

  "I'm betting I probably will be, if you'll let me." He sighed heavily.

  "Here. Have some coffee before you explain. Always helps." Rory gave him a sympathetic smile and a cup. "Spill."

  "Well.. I went out to get the stuff from Starbucks and the paper, and after setting them up, I went upstairs to call my father." He sighed. "I was trying to use the kitchen phone, because I didn't know if you were a heavy sleeper and I knew that if you weren't, I'd probably wake you up with the study phone. However, using a blue fluffy phone can be very, very hard, especially when you can't find the 'talk' button. So I went upstairs and called my father. He's refusing to send me the money, probably because he wants to take his mistress to the Caribbean. Whatever the reason is, I don't have enough money to have a decent apartment by myself."

  Rory sincerely tried with all of her good heart to sympathize, but the little girl within her was secretly excited.

  "You can stay here, you know.. Rent controlled, and everything.." Rory sort of swirled her spoon around in her coffee. "I mean, if you want to.."

  "Really? That'd be great!!!" He looked like a little boy who had just been given extra chocolate chip scones with whipped cream on top.

  "We do have our rules around here, don't we, Rox?" Rory looked at her dog and then looked back at Tristan. "Think you could handle it?"

  "Bring it on."

  "Ah-ha! You broke rule number one!" Rory snapped her fingers triumphantly. "Never expect anything until at least one cup of mocha chocolate chip coffee has been drunken."

  "You need to think of the rules, don't you?"

  "Yep."

  "Okay. Rule number two. You do not bring uninvited guests home on any nights but Friday and Saturday."

  "Don't like surprises?"

  "No. Rule number two A."

  "Now we have As and Bs to the rules?"

  "Yes. Don't interrupt me. Rule number two A is that if said guest is brought home uninvited on said nights, I will be your crazy psychotic girlfriend that has just escaped Bellevue."

  "And vice versa for me?"

  "Yes. Stop interrupting. Rule number three- Every other week we switch off grocery buying duties, unless we feel like we need some bonding time and we go together."

  "Sincerely doubt it."

  "Yeah, me too."

  "Just don't put your feminine crap on the list when I'm buying."

  "And don't put your macho crap on the list when _I'm_ buying. Stop interrupting. Rule number four- Sunday night is rental movie night. Unlike groceries, we go _together_ to get said movies."

  "You don't trust me, do you?"

  "Not at all. Don't interrupt. Rule number five- You are responsible for your own dog."

  "You don't want to pick up Jack's poop, do you?"

  "Will you STOP interrupting? Rule six is- Avoid answering calls from my mother at all times. We've got caller i.d. _I_ may pick up the phone. You may not. Unless I'm out or something. But even then, do not engage in conversation with her."

  "That was rule six, rule six A, and rule six B, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. Do you want rule seven to be don't interrupt Rory?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "Fine. We switch off on who cooks dinner which day depending on the other person's schedule."

  "I have to cook?"

  "Yes. Rule eight. Don't interrupt Rory."

  "Why did I see that coming?"

  "That is TWO violations of the Rory rules. Rule nine- Three strikes and you are rewarded with an extra duty. Trash is twice a week, I'll do that."

  Tristan raised his hand.

  "Better! Yes?"

  "Why?"

  "Because you're Coffee Boy."

  "Sweet."

  "Rule twelve- Do not use the phrase sweet in that context again."

  Tristan raised his hand.

  "You're learning!" 

  "Why not?"

  "Okay, okay. Scratch that. We will come up with more rules when problems arise."

  "I'm guessing it's my turn to buy the groceries?"

  "Good boy!"


	5. And Tristan Figures Out the Fluffy Phone

  "Nearest grocery store?"

  "Two lefts from the stoop."

  "Got the list?"

  "On the counter next to my coffee...."

  "I'll get some coffee while I'm out."

  "Good boy!"

  Tristan shook his head and stood up straight. He _had_ been leaning in the upstairs bathroom doorway, watching Rory put up her hair. She had only been wearing an expertly-tied towel dress, and Tristin had been in a gray t-shirt and boxers. It was Sunday. He had just reintroduced himself on Friday, moved in officially on Saturday, and now..

  "Remember to buy all your masculine junk today." She shouted from the bathroom.

  "Alright, Rory!" He shouted back from his bedroom.

  "Put on a coat!"

  "But Rory--.."

  "Put on a coat! It's winter and it's New York!"

  He shook his head again. 

  "Fine, Rory, fine." He had pulled on his jeans and his boots, and now he was going to get his coat.. Where was his coat?

  "Rory, have you seen my coat?"

  "You leave it by the door when you come back from coffee duties."

  That's right. Funny. Last night had been a free, go ahead and party night. And still, the only times he had been going out in the past twenty four hours was to get coffee.

  "Thanks." He shouted back, but he was sure she didn't hear. He made his way down the stairs and the phone rang.

  "Can you get that?"

  He enjoyed the sound of her voice. The way they shouted at each other around the apartment- It was almost like they were.. Almost like they were a couple. A married couple, completely used to each other in every way.

  "Hello?" He sat down on the counter. He had finally learned how to get the fluffy phone to work.

  "Sorry.. I must have dialed wrong. It would be so like her to change numbers without even telling me.." The female voice began to babble. "I mean, honestly. I gave birth to the girl and all she can do is.."

  "Gilmore residence." He finished what he was going to say.

  Lorelei arched her brow on the other end and Luke tapped his No Cell Phones sign again. She stuck her tongue out at him.

  "Gilmore residence? Couldn't be. Unless she got a butler or a boyfriend, both of which are hardly believable.. Shut up, you silly little man!"

  Lorelei covered the mouthpiece. "I will have you know that there is a _male_ answering Rory's phone."

  Luke took his finger off the sign and leaned forward. "Rory's phone? As in, Rory, your daughter's phone."

  "No, the duke of Rory's phone." Lorelei rolled her eyes. "Yes, Rory, my daughter's phone."

  "Hello?"

  "I have confused her butler." Lorelei uncovered the mouthpiece. "I am guessing you are Reeves the butler."

  "No, Tristan the roommate." Tristan slid off the counter and looked at the caller id on the mounted base of the phone. "So this is why she told me never to answer a call from you."

  Lorelei covered the mouthpiece. "It's her roommate and she told him never to answer a call from me!"

  Luke rolled his eyes as he poured her some more coffee. "I wonder why."

  "Oh, shut up, you silly little man!" She uncovered the mouthpiece. "Where is my daughter?"

  "In the bathroom.." Tristan was confused.

  "And you are going where?" Lorelei asked him. Well, rather, sent a subliminal order.

  "To buy groceries and coffee." Tristan replied slowly.

  "NOW I see why you're her roommate. Could you get my daughter on the phone?" 

  "Hold on..." Tristan pulled the blue fluffy phone away from his face. "RORY! Damned fluffy phone.."

  He heard Lorelei's distant voice. "Do not curse the housewarming gift, mister!"

  "Who is it? Chiltonite? That would explain why you've been on for so long, but it doesn't explain.. How would they get my number? I mean, honestly.."

  Tristan connected the two by their babbling.

  "It's your mother."

  "Oh. Didn't I tell you not to talk to her?"

  "But she talked to me first!" Tristan felt like a child.

  "Well, she does that. Sorry.. I'll get it up here."

  "Okay." Tristan held the fluffy phone in one hand and found the grocery list.

  "You can hang up now!"

  Tristan hit the off button (which Rory had painted with sparkly blue nail polish so he could see it).

  "Remind me never to answer the kitchen phone when my friends are over, okay, Jack?" He ruffled the top of his dog's head. "I'm leaving, Rory!"

  "Fine! Later!"

   He put on his coat and sort of laughed, remembering the conversation of moments before.

  "And Coffee Boy was?" Lorelei was demanding.

  "Just my roommate, mom."

  "Why would you need a roommate, Rory? In case you haven't noticed, your place is rent-controlled. As in, you no pay!"

  Rory laughed. "Old friend needed a place to stay, so he picks up the coffee and the groceries bill every now and then."

  "I have taught you well, oh Obi Wan. Is he cute?"

   "WHAT?"

  "Is he cute?"

  "How would I know?"

  "I gave birth to a daughter with perfectly good eyes. Is he cute?"

  "He's Tristan, mom.."

  "This explains nothing, Obi Wan." 

  "I guess.. In the sleepy, Backstreet Boy sort of way."

  "As in Caterpillar-Face, Midget, 12-Step-Program, Baby or Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

  "Baby."

  "Old friend that is hot in a Baby sort of way.. Hmm.. How could you have deprived me of meeting this Nick Carter look-alike?"

  "He wasn't exactly a friend until Friday."

  "When he?"

  "Er, moved in."

  "I HAVE taught you something!"

  "Plus, he isn't a Nick Carter look-alike.. Messyish sort of blonde hair, blue eyes.. Amazing bod.."

  "So you guys are?"

  "Friends."

  "Anything more in your future?"

  "Wouldn't put anything down in writing, but honestly, mom. It's Tristin. I told you about this on Friday."

  "Yes, but not only does my memory sort of lack in certain areas, by then he wasn't your official roommate. And now he's possible boy toy thing.. I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I, missy?"

  "I've been in New York for six years, mom. This is the first time I did anything REMOTELY similar to what you might have done."

  "Hey, do not bite the hand that fed you!"

  "Fine, fine.."

  "Chiltonite?"

  "Yes."

  "Rich, hot, steamy Bible Boy Chiltonite?"

  "Yes, no, no, yes."

  "Rich Bible Boy Chiltonite."

  "Correct."

  Lorelei purred.

  Luke tapped the No Cell Phones sign. She covered the mouthpiece.

  "What's wrong? Seconds ago you were fine with this!"

  "That was until you purred."

  "I got to go, Rory. Luke's being a meanie."

  "Bye, mom."

  Rory hung up the phone slowly, and tried to block her mother's words out of her head.

  "Tombstone's, Tombstone's, Tombstone's.. Ah-ha!" Tristan looked back down on the list. Pepperoni Tombstone's. Supreme Tombstone's.

  He got two of each and looked at the cart. It was reasonably filled.

  "Tristan. Tristan Du Gray." Tristan turned around, his hand still on the handle of the freezer door. He faced Louise and smiled.

  "Louise. Imagine, running into you!"

  "Quit dreaming, it's happening." Classic Louise behavior. "Still in New York?"

  "No. I'm in Chicago, enjoying Lake Michigan."

  "Still got the wit."

  "Naturally. How have you been?"

  "Alright, I suppose. Didn't know you lived on this side of the city. Would have sworn Paris said you lived in those townhouses."

  "I did. Moved out on Friday."

  "Involuntarily?"

  "Naturally."

  "Where are you staying now?"

  Tristan arched one of his eyebrows. "A friend's place in Manhattan. Two rights from here."

  "Join me for a coffee?"

  "Nah. I promised to bring hot coffee home with me straight from shopping." Half-lie, DuGray. Good.

  "Fine. Don't tell me Tiffany kicked you out?" Louise was now sorting through the fat free whipped cream.

  "Yeah, she did. This time, it was more business than pleasure."

  "Shame. Would have had something nice for the holiday party."

  "I really must get going. Left Rory alone with that huge dog of mine--.." Tristan trailed off, wishing he hadn't expressed what he was thinking at that moment, because Louise instantly perked up.

  "Rory? You're staying with Rory Gilmore? Without having to gag her?"

  "Umm.. Look, Louise, Donald Trump! Didn't you hear he got divorced?" Tristan took his cart and ran to the farthest away check-out counter. He sighed heavily. 

  He had been kicked out on Friday, spent the night Friday, moved in officially on Saturday and now it was Sunday, and he was doing _their_ shopping. By Monday, anybody who knew Tristan at Chilton would know that Tristan DuGray and Rory Gilmore were living in the same apartment.

  He kicked the counter in his frustration. Why didn't he leave Louise the instant she started talking to him???

  Wait.. What was Louise doing in a supermarket anyway?


	6. An Ice Cream Encounter

  "It's obvious. Paris has implanted her spies to ensure you weren't dieing of not living in the Plaza penthouse." Rory said with a shrug. "Where's the ice cream?"

  "Couldn't get it, Louise was still there. I got the pizza, though." Tristan tried to make up for it.

  "Eh, don't worry about it. You shouldn't have to go with two encounters of women you hope to never meet." Rory chirped, picking up the coffee and downing it in seconds.

  "Huh?"

  "Lorelei and Louise." Rory replied simply. "Anyway, we can just go on a splurge at the place down the street."

  "Both of us?" Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow wearily.

  "I am not royalty. I do not refer to myself as we if I don't mean two or more persons are going." Rory muttered, rolling her eyes. "Lorelei, on the other hand.."

  Tristan smirked. "Somebody's broken down the English language for my benefit."

  Rory looked at him innocently. "It's not my fault you're stupid."

  "I _am_ your coffee boy." He reminded her.

  "This _is_ my apartment."

  "Touché."

  "Thank you."

   "Ice cream is one of those things I never wanted to figure out how they made." Rory said after licking a bit of her chocolate chip cone.

  "Why?" Tristan asked, licking a bit of his own cone.

  "Do you really know what's in this stuff? What if it's like Jell-O, you know? Cow's hooves?" Rory asked. "What if they, like, use every bit of the cow that's left, add milk and sugar, and voila! You have ice cream!"

  "There goes the appetite." Tristan murmured. He was about to toss his cone in the trash, and Rory put a hand on his to stop him.

  "I was just kidding. Its cream, which is made out of churned milk, sugar, and flavoring." She explained, her free hand not leaving his.

  "Well, then, it might be worth saving." He whispered, inching closer to her.

  "We'll have to see, won't we?" She asked in a husky tone.

  Tristan had a feeling they weren't talking about ice cream anymore.

  She leaned in, and perhaps it was the overwhelming scent of the sugary dessert that was doing this to her, but he swore she was going to—

  "Tris!" Paris Gellar called across the street. Both ex-enemies straightened up automatically, looking like deer caught in the headlights.

  The blonde huffed across the street to catch up with the two. "Imagine running into you here."

  "Imagine." Rory grumbled. "I'm going back so I can let you two catch up."

  "Wait.." Tristan trailed off. Rory turned around to look at him, hoping pain wasn't trickling into her eyes, and Paris was glaring at him. "Stay. We all need to catch up."

  "There isn't anything she doesn't know about me from the country club circuit." Rory spat.

  "Well, trusting Louise Grant, I'm pretty sure everything about me is out in the open. Sorry, Par, we got to go. We've both got work tomorrow." Tristan caught up to Rory, and the two walked in silence until they were in front of their apartment.

  "You didn't have to do that." Rory muttered, not looking at him.

  He gently put a hand under her chin, cupping it and forcing her to have eye contact with him. "But I did. I had to get away from it all. That's why Tiffany kicked me out in the first place."

  Rory smiled. "At least one good thing came of it."

  He shook his head. "More than one good thing came of it. I had a chance to erase my past with you, I finally have freedom from both my parents and a horrible job, and.."

  He pulled her closer and gave her a soft kiss. "I have a chance with you."

  "I believe you finished the job I tried to do." Rory murmured, kissing him back.

A/N: Yeah, I know, short, but it is to be continued.


	7. Was That-- But-- What?

  Rory woke up in a flash. It almost seemed—Too chick flick.

  She had been sleeping on the couch, and that was after Tristan had put up the groceries and told her about his encounter.

  Why was she having dreams about this guy? This perfectly average, handsome, intelligent, rich guy?

  It was too mushy, too forced, too unreal.

  "Tris?" She called out softly.

  "Ror?" He replied, his voice faint.

  "Just checking."

  "The gossip connection works fast." Rory muttered to him, tossing him a letter.

  "Dear Mr. DuGray, we request your presence at the Daughters of the American Revolution ball. Please feel free to R.S.V.P as soon as possible and bring a companion." He trailed off. "What about you?"

  "Tossed the letter out before I could read it." She told him, sitting down on his bed. 

  "You can call if you want to go." He reminded her. "Being a former deb and all."

  She gave him a surprised half-smile. "How'd you know?"

  "The gossip connection works fast." He mocked.

  "I wouldn't have anyone there to make the experience enjoyable. I'm betting Grandma has given up trying to bring Mom and Granddad." She explained.

  "I'll go if you need me to." He offered, standing up and going to the study. She followed him there.

  He was sitting at her desk, the phone in his hand. She leaned on the frame of the door. "Want me to dial?"

  "That'd be nice." Rory admitted.

  "Good. I won't be tortured by my parents if we end up sitting next to one another."

  "I don't really think your parents would care." Rory told him wearily. "Judging by your whole thing with your father."

  He nodded. "I guess you're right."

  He dialed the number and handed the phone to Rory. She looked like a deer in the headlights, and as the phone rang, she was refusing to do anything. She stood about a foot away from him, and she was shaking her head fiercely.

  "Hello?"

  "Like, oh my God." Rory found herself saying in a very perky voice. "This is, like, Lorelei Gilmore the Third's assistant Leeann! Ms. Gilmore would, like, to, like, apologize for the delay in her, like, reservation, but, like, Ms. Gilmore would, like, absolutely, like, totally, like, love to go to the, like, ball. No, like, she doesn't. But she will be, like, sharing, like, a car with, like, Tristan DuGray. Well, then, like, she'll be there!"

  Tristan was laughing his head off.

  "Your turn." Rory snapped, handing him the phone.

  "Hello?"

  In a very high-pitched voice, Tristan turned on the charm. "This is totally Rico, the totally buff and available assistant of Tristan DuGray, calling to totally say that Mr. DuGray is totally pumped for the D.A.R ball. And, yes, you totally sweet, sweet man, you will be all totally Rico's by the end of the phone call. Mr. DuGray, unfortunately, being the total hottie he is, is totally straight and is totally sharing a car with the totally groovy straight chick Lorelei Gilmore the Third. Totally! Oh my god, I do not know what is totally going on with those two.."

  Tristan hung up before the man on the other end could hear Rory slapping him playfully.

  Rory browsed through the non-Lorelei collection of her jewelry. All she had was a pair of pearl earrings, a pearl necklace and a diamond tennis bracelet, all gifts from her grandmother. She decided to save the bracelet for later.

  On a normal night, she would have gone with a dark blue or a black dress. But tonight, she felt like wearing some sort of—She chose a wine-colored garment made of soft, fluttering silk. She was throwing pairs of shoes out of her closet when Tristan walked in.

  "God, Rory, it's not like you care." Tristan drawled, picking up one of her wine-colored heels she had completely forgotten about. It dangled by its thin silky straps on his pinky.

  "There they are!" She exclaimed, grabbing it and shoving the shoe on. "Now where's the other one?"

  She returned to the closet and Tristan nonchalantly grabbed the shoe off of her bed.

  Rory whirled around instantly and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He held the shoe over her head.

  Rory was not tiny, mind you. But she had a certain disability, as one foot was rearing to go and the other was bare except for the thin material of hose between her and the carpeted floor.

  She managed to grab it anyway and, glaring at Tristan, ordered him to help her with her necklace.

  Tristan sat down on her bed as she put her hair up, holding it back with real-looking pearls that (if Lorelei had decided to buy the metallic purple ones) would have given themselves away.

  She turned around to be appraised.

  "He's totally going with this groovy straight chick." Tristan mimicked.

  She smiled at him. "So we're leaving by train, freshening up at your parents' place and then taking a chauffeured car?"

  He nodded. She appraised him. He wore a navy blue silken suit. It wasn't too shiny, but it looked soft. Smooth.

  "Milady?" He offered his arm, speaking in a very stuffy voice.

  "Milord." She replied demurely.

  "We are acting so dorky." He whispered as they walked down the stairs.

  "Just practicing." She retorted.

  "Good point."


	8. The Macarena, The Closet, The Dance (Not...

  Paris Gellar impatiently tapped her foot, her arms crossed and her expression begging for intelligent conversation. You would have thought after high school, Madelyn and Louise would have matured a bit.

  "So you're six one, six two?" 

  "Will you two just jump them and get it over with?" Paris growled, and instead of scowling, Louise's face was lit up by a rare event. An idea.

  "Thanks for the suggestion, Paris." She drawled with her infamous sickly sweet smile. She took the six-one/six-two guy by the hand and led him away.

  "Yeah, we really owe you one." Madelyn chirped, following Louise's example.

  Paris glanced at her watch. She didn't remember _what_ designer name it was, or _which_ parent it was that was trying to suck up to her, and she honestly didn't care. What she cared about was the time. It was seven seventeen and she really wanted intelligent conversation.

  She looked at the watch in disgust, realizing that taupe was not an easy color to wear.

  She let her eyes linger around the half-empty lobby of the Ritz. Excellent choice, if you asked her. But of course, no one ever did. The carpet was lush and dark red, the fixtures were all gold-plated, and laughter softly floated through the glass doors.

  "What would Rico say, Ror?" A hauntingly familiar deep voice asked between chuckles.

  "That I'm totally not the groovy chick he thought I was." His female companion replied.

  Paris froze. _That_ voice she knew, and if her instincts were right, the man beside her was---

  "Tristan!" Rory hissed. "Behave!"

  Damn, they both looked good. At least they didn't match. That would have been just horrible, heartbreaking, the whole nine yards.

  Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes appraising the room. Paris took the opportunity to hide. Anywhere would be fine, but she _had_ to hide.

  She spotted a little closet underneath the stairs. She rushed into it and found herself bumping into someone.

  "Well, well, well. If it isn't my step cousin's little friend Paris." Jess drawled as he instantly shut the door. "Hiding from the perfect couple, I see."

  Paris sent him a confused look, which he probably couldn't see.

  "Let's face it, none of us are ready for her to fall into that life. Not me, not you, not her parents and certainly not him." Jess sighed. "Or were you just going to the powder room and letting me blabber?"

  "Actually.." Paris whispered, but Jess looked up when he heard a female voice.

  "I swear, Luke, I don't even know why we even take him to these dinners. Remember his first D.A.R ball? He practically exploded the 77th Anniversary cake."

  "Damn, that's my aunt." Jess muttered. "Come on, we need to get out of here before she comes looking in here."

  Jess opened the door and walked out nonchalantly, and Paris followed.

  Tristan, Rory, Luke, Madelyn, Louise, Lorelei and the two male companions raised their eyebrows as Jess and Paris emerged from a closet.

  Rory let out a very undignified giggle, and turned away. Tristan was muffling his laughter into her shoulder, and Luke's eyebrows disappeared into his gelled hair. Lorelei let out a catcall.

  "Mom!" Rory shrieked.

  Louise turned back to her date. "I'm bored."

  They left and Madelyn followed with her own escort.

  "This is not what it looks like." Paris said instantly.

  "It's not just a fling." Jess interrupted.

  Paris shot him a look and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  "Do they really want to know we're escaping their presence? Now giggle." 

  Paris giggled.

  "Go Jess." Tristan murmured.

  "Go Paris!" Rory whispered loudly. "He's hot."

  Tristan raised one eyebrow. "In that non-sexy, cousin-y sort of way."

  "Rory, Rory, Rory.. The fruit of me and Chris's frenzied, stress-relieving, one-time, highly-rewarding, amazingly well-read, victim-to-gossip labor, tell me who this delightful young tart is." Lorelei drawled as Jess and Paris off together, Jess was nonchalant and Paris was quite flushed.

  "Oh, Mom, this is my roommate, Tristan Du.." At this moment, Rory was yanked aside.

  "_That's_ Tristan?" Lorelei demanded in a low whisper.

  Rory nodded.

  "I know I'm going to pull a cliché here, but why didn't you inform me Bible Boy was so.." Lorelei trailed off, trying to place the word.

  "Cute?" Rory suggested wearily.

  "Yeah!" Lorelei exclaimed.

  "I tried to tell you he was Baby from the Backstreet Boys!" Rory hissed.

  "That's hardly doing him any justice! He's more Brad Pitt or Ed Norton-y." Lorelei retorted.

  "Lor?" Luke asked from a few feet away.

  "Coming." Lorelei chirped, looking over her shoulder at Rory with a smirk that made Rory groan.

  "What was your mother saying about doing me?" Tristan whispered softly in Rory's ear, making her jump. "I thought she was married."

  "She is." Rory replied as she slowly started walking into the Grand Ballroom.

  "So she was suggesting that _you_ do me? I have to give her props for her excellent taste." Tristan teased, and he grabbed Rory by the wrist, spinning her into him.

  The electricity was there, no doubt about it.

  "Can't have your mascara running on a night like this." He whispered, kissing her forehead softly and pulling away.

  Rory, though puzzled, slipped her arm into the crook of his bended one and they proceeded into the ballroom.

  "I swear if they play the Macarena one more time, I will pull an Ozzy Osborne and bit the head off of one of these ice swans." Lorelei muttered. "My _mother_ is out there."

  Tristan, Rory, and Luke readjusted their line of view to see Emily Gilmore smiling and laughing as falsely as possible.

  Tristan caught Rory's eye and they ducked under the table to begin laughing.

  "Why don't you and me go out there?" Luke suggested, and Rory froze.

  Lorelei shot him a look. "Mr. Cynical-I-Never-Give-Coffee-Or-Alcohol-Or-Anything-Fun-To-Lorelei is suggesting that we do the Macarena at a D.A.R. ball? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

  Luke looked sheepish.

  "Do you even know the steps?"

  "I cannot believe I'm being subjected to this." Paris moaned, tapping her fingertips against the white tablecloth.

  "You? Those people are related to me!" Jess reminded her loudly.

  "Ya'll sound so sweet." A D.A.R member from Georgia commented as she stopped to appraise the two. "Adorable. You're that Lorelei's nephew, correct?"

  Jess nodded.

  "Your uncle is one brilliant man, especially with that Lorelei heading that enterprise of his. Paris, I approve." She passed them by and Paris glared at Jess.

  "Thanks for the highly successful alibi. By my mother's garden party next week, half of the East Coast will know about you and me." She hissed through gritted teeth.

  "What's the big deal? What, do you think Tristan and Rory are actually a couple? They're _roommates_. They're _friends_. And I thought we were, too. Friends, that is." Jess muttered coldly.

  Paris held back a scream. "That's **not** what I meant, Jess. It's just that we can't keep playing this charade. It's wrong to deceive people like that."

  Jess smirked. "You'd rather have your cousin?"

  Paris's eyes narrowed. "I told you never to remind me of that ever again."

  "Well, I rather like this charade. It wouldn't be deceiving if it were true." Jess reminded her, leaning in. 

  Paris's eyes grew from slits to saucers. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

  Jess smirked, taking her hand, kissing the top of it and standing up. "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Not a direct quote, but Casablanca isn't what's on my mind."

  "Tango, Miss Gilmore?" Tristan asked softly as he led her to the quiet lobby.

  They could barely hear the music drifting through the doors. But it was enough.

  "Why, Mr. DuGray, I had no idea you could dance." Rory replied in a very posh British voice. He took her hand and gently spun her out. 

  "Cotillion." He whispered into her ear when he brought her back in. "What about you?"

  "Miss Patty. I had to learn for my coming out as a debutante." Rory answered softly. "Who is that?"

  Tristan thought for a moment. "Miles Davis."

  "Oh yeah." 

  They danced a little more. Rory leaned her head on Tristan's shoulder and closed her eyes.

  Tristan stopped after a while. "Rory, do you love me?"

  Rory looked up, her eyes open and wide.

  "Well, I, maybe, well, ye- I don't know." She stuttered, and his smile set her at ease.

  "It's a start, then." Tristan murmured, sweeping up her hand and kissing it, before he proceeded to go into the ballroom.__


End file.
